


The Good Ones Always Seem to Break

by Radiday



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Addiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 12:29:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiday/pseuds/Radiday
Summary: He can’t sleep. That’s how it starts.





	The Good Ones Always Seem to Break

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Sky Full of Song” by Florence and the Machine. 
> 
> Thanks to the Riverdale Season 2 deleted scenes for ruining my life.

He can’t sleep. That’s how it starts. 

Well, technically, he can, but if he doesn’t take the pain meds he wakes up halfway through the night screaming Archie’s name. 

In the early days of his recovery, he’s awoken my Mary, who rubs his back and lets him fold himself into her chest until he can breath without feeling like something’s trying to rip his insides open. 

When Mary leaves, it’s Archie who wakes him. He’s frightened by the screaming, because Mary usually woke him before it got loud enough for Archie to hear. 

Fred looks up at him and sees that they share the same feeling of sheer terror, albeit for different reasons. 

For a minute, he forgets where he is and who’s with him, so he presses his face into Archie’s chest the way he did with Mary. 

Archie’s hesitant and shaking hands remind Fred that it’s his son, not his wife, that’s with him now, so he blinks away tears and tells Archie he’s fine, he’s sorry, and to go back to bed. 

Archie does what his father asks, but he doesn’t believe him for a second. It starts to happen more often, nearly every night, before Fred figures out the pills help. At some point, Archie stops going into his father’s bedroom when he hears the screaming. 

He just puts his headphones in and turns them up as loud as they go, swallowing tears and willing his dad to get better, because every time he has to go wake his father up and stop him from screaming his name, a piece of Archie falls apart. 

The problem is, he hates himself for leaving his father to suffer. So he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t. 

Fred hates himself too, but in harder, more deep-seated way that Archie’s not capable of. 

This kind of hate comes with age, with knowing what you should have done and what you could have done and what you didn’t. The kind of hate that comes from thinking about the past too much, about all his mistakes, even the ones that didn’t seem like they were mistakes. 

He often thinks about what would have happened if he made different choices, if he’s won Hermione over, if he’d followed FP to the Serpents, if he’d decided to go to that urban planning program in New York he’d been accepted into.

He avoids thinking about the present, because reality is just some fleeting combination of what once was and what’s yet to come. 

It’s a combination of him being perpetually afraid for Archie’s sake and Archie being perpetually afraid for Fred’s, and Fred can’t bear to think of that. 

Instead, he takes the pills and tries not to think at all. It’s not a problem, not yet anyways. He can stop anytime he wants. 

Except that’s not true. That’s the first of many lies he tells to himself. 

He’ll stop when the pain goes away. The doctor gave these to him for a reason, didn’t he? Except the pain doesn’t go away, which is expected, his physical therapist says, because he got shot and people’s bodies don’t really ever completely recover from a piece of metal flying through their body and A couple hundred miles an hour. 

That, and he still can’t fucking sleep. 

He’s off the cane now, back to work. His men are still cautious, don’t let him do any lifting at the site, regaling him to doing only boss man stuff. 

But that’s never been how Fred rolls. He’s always been a man of the people, a man of his people, and he’ll be damned if he lets them do all the work. 

That part of himself, the professional Fred, doesn’t miss a beat, no matter how bad it makes his back or side hurt. 

The other part of him, the personal part of Fred, the emotional part, the part of him that hates himself, is the same part that can’t stop, so if he’s going to be an addict, why not do it right? 

The thing is, he’s good at taking the pills. He never takes so many that he’s out of commission. He’s careful enough so that nobody ever really suspects anything. He takes just enough to get him through the day and then takes them again before the withdrawal hits. 

Until, of course, Archie finds the empty pill bottle in his trash can of three months worth of pills that he’d finished in one. 

Maybe he wasn’t as careful as the thought. 

He lies to Archie, though, because what else was he supposed to do? Admit to his already emotionally traumatized son that his father was an addict?”

“I flushed them,” he lies. Archie buys it. 

Except now he has to stop, because he was this close to letting Archie down again, and Fred never hates himself more than when he feels like he’s let Archie down. 

So he takes the empty bottle and the prescription listing two refills and throws them in Sweetwater River. 

The thing about quitting cold turkey, though, is that you’re not supposed to do it. Fred’s taken his fair share of trips around the sun, so he knows that much. 

But he has to, because there’s no way he can risk Archie getting any closer to the truth than he already is. 

By that night, though, he’s regretting his decision. His hands shake and his head is spinning, and he’s barely heard a word Archie’s said all evening. 

Two days later, FP Jones wanders into the construction office they used to share and asks him to be his sponsor. 

Fred doesn’t know if he believes in God, but he does today. 

That, or FP Jones has better intuition than either of them thought. 

He asks if Fred remembers the AA meetings in the church basement. 

‘Of course I do’, he doesn’t say. ‘I’m the one who took you in the first place.’

FP’s the first person Fred admits having a problem to. He thinks that if there’s anyone he can talk to without being judged, it’s FP. 

He’s more than happy to return the favor. 

Sure, they can call each other, but they both know they’ll need something more, something structured, to get through this. 

They meet weekly, on Wednesday nights, because that’s when Archie has late football practice and Jughead works with Betty to format that week’s Blue and Gold. 

They gather at the trailer, more because Fred doesn’t want Archie to come home early and have questions. Jughead’s always been better at secrets anyways. 

Also, Alice. Both Fred and FP want to steer clear of Alice’s wandering eyes. 

Most of it is following FP’s lead. He’s been in this longer, knows what it’s like to have a sponsor. 

Fred isn’t sure what kinds of things they talk about. He doesn’t know how deep is too deep, and he’s always shard away from going too deep whenever necessary. 

FP tells Fred about the White Wyrm, and how he can’t go in there anymore because it’s too tempting. He tells Fred that Jughead said he’s glad FP’s not drinking anymore, that he appreciates the effort. 

FP looks at Fred expectantly when he’s finished. “How are things on your end?” 

Fred has a million things he could say. It still hurts, both physically and emotionally. He could talk about the withdrawal, how he’d told Archie he had the stomach flu when he found him in the master bathroom, head handing over the toilet even though nothing was coming out.

But instead, he simply says, “I told Archie I flushed the pills, when he asked me why the bottle was empty.” 

FP nods, but doesn’t say anything. FP may not be good at much, but he knows when Fred has more to say. 

“I just, I don’t know. I thought I was being careful. Then he came downstairs and asked out of the blue and I just… I just had to think fast.” 

“And it’s eating you up, isn’t it? That Archie had been that close to finding out.”

Fred looks up from his place on the couch. A look of ‘how did you know’ written on his face. 

FP knows the look. “Freddy,” he shakes his head with a smile. “Of course you’re guilty. You’re the best parent I know. The idea of Archie being hurt by it is probably all you think about.” 

Fred nods blankly, because there’s nothing else to say. He couldn’t have said it better if he tried. 

“You gotta tell him, Freddy. Make amends.” 

Fred laughs bitterly. “Doesn’t that step come later?”

FP scoffs and gestured around the room. “Well, we’re not exactly doing things he traditional way, are we?” 

He does tell Archie, the next day, for that matter, because he just can’t take it anymore. 

And if he doesn’t, he’ll be letting both Archie and FP down.

He checks the clock and sees that Archie should be home from practice any minute. 

He’d texted earlier saying he thought they should get take out. Fred doesn’t know if it’s because Fred looks as bad as he feels or if Archie just genuinely wants Pop’s. 

He texts back in agreement, asking if he could pick it up on his way home. 

Fred’s been into Pop’s a few times in the months after the shooting, but not nearly as much as usual. It still feels like he can’t breath when he’s in there, like there’s danger awaiting every time the bell above the door rings.

Archie had said he would, asking if Fred was sure that he only wanted a small burger and nothing else. 

Archie knew Fred had lost weight since getting shot. Anybody could see that, the way his flannels hang off his shoulders, how tight he ties his robe so it doesn’t fall right off his body. 

It’s just that, he thought Fred would gain that weight back. It’s been about two months, and Fred looks exactly the same. 

Archie’s concerned because Fred’s been off the restricted diet the doctor gave him for a month now, but Fred’s still not eating much. 

Fred can’t tell Archie that it’s because the pills knock him out cold, and when he wakes up it’s like he forgets to eat. It doesn’t matter if he does either, because he’s just not hungry. 

It’s been worse since Archie found the pills and Fred quit cold turkey. The first few days after, the thought of food made Fred want to vomit. Sometimes he did. 

It’s gotten better now, about two weeks later, but there’s still a part of him that feel the nausea bubble when he moves to put something in his mouth. 

He sits on the couch and waits, watching the sun set through the windows as the living room gets darker. 

He thinks for a moment that he should get a beer, but, given the circumstances, decides against it. 

He can hear Archie’s feet pounding up the porch steps, his heavy breathing and the dropping of his backpack as the comes through the door. 

“Dad!” he calls out before he sees his father. “Dinner’s here!” 

Fred watches as Archie slips off his shoes. “Right here,” Fred says. 

“Oh, hey. Come on, I’m starving. Let’s eat,” Archie says, still excited from practice and unseeing of Fred’s internal turmoil. 

Fred doesn’t have the heart to ruin Archie’s mood, so he follows suit, joining Archie at the table where he’s already laid out the food. 

Archie eats quickly, earning his dinner after a two hour football practice. 

Fred, on the other hand, picks at his food, forcing about half of it down before giving up. 

“No good? Pop said he made it himself.” Archie asks, mouth full of fries, gesturing to the burger. 

Fred shakes his head quickly. “No, no. It’s fine. I guess I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.” 

“Is everything alright?” 

Fred opens his mouth to say ‘Yeah, Arch, everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about,’ when he remembers his conversation with FP. 

It’s time to make amends with Archie. And with himself. 

He wrings his hands together, fully aware that Archie’s not staring at him, concerned, having put his own food down. 

“Actually, son, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Archie leans forward. “What’s wrong? Is it the Black Hood? Are you sick? Is Mom sick?”

Fred can’t help but laugh gently at the love his son has for his family. “No, no, son. Mom’s fine.” 

“So are you sick?” 

“No, Arch, I’m not sick. I just, uh…” he pauses, taking a breath to collect himself and start over. “You remember that empty pill bottle you found?” 

Archie didn’t need any more information as his brain worked in overdrive to put the pieces together. He knew where his was going. He hated that he missed it. “Yeah,” he says. 

Fred folds his hands on the table and leans in. “I didn’t flush them, son. I took them. I lied to you,” he says, looking down at his hands, willing himself not to start crying. “I’m sorry.” 

Even though Archie knew it was coming, he’s still speechless. “I-,” he starts. “That’s okay, we’ll get help. There’s meetings, and rehab and-.”

Fred cuts him off. “Arch, Arch, slow down. I tossed all the pills I had that day, when you found the bottle. I haven’t taken anything since.” 

“That’s why you haven’t been feeling well,” Archie says in realization. 

Fred nods. “As for meetings,” he stops to take another breath, “they don’t have them like they used to around here. But FP and I, were working through it. Helping each other out.” 

“FP Jones?” Archie asks incredulously. 

Fred gives a half smile. “I know he’s not good for a lot of things, but he’s good for this. He knows what it’s like. He’s looking to make things right for Jug.” 

Archie nods but doesn’t say anything. Fred’s glad he doesn’t have to offer a greater explanation. 

Archie’s silent for a few minutes, twirling single fry after single fry in ketchup, eating but not tasting. Fred’s just about to apologize again when Archie speaks suddenly. “I know that you want everything to be perfect for me. It’s why you didn’t tell me about the company’s money problems, or the nightmares,” he adds quietly. “But I’m old enough to know that nobody’s perfect. Even you. You don’t have to hide these things from me, Dad. I know you worry about letting me down, but you don’t. You never have. Your my hero. You always will be.” 

Fred feels the breath leave his lungs. “Arch, I-“ 

“And I just need you to know that you can talk to me,” Archie continues, “about anything. I know you have FP, but… I don’t know. I just need you to know that your not in this alone. Any of this.” 

Fred’s left without words. He looks at Archie, tears silently streaming down his face. They both rise from the table as Archie embraces Fred in the kind of hug that Fred usually gives him. 

Warm, and strong, and safe. 

“I love you, Dad. You could never let me down,” he whispers into Fred’s ear. “I just want you to be happy.” 

Fred laughs wetly. “That’s supposed to be my line.” 

Archie smiles. “Well now it’s both of our line.” 

The downside of going off the pills, besides the withdrawal, is that the nightmares come back with a vengeance. Fred’s mastered the art of waking himself up when it get bad, an occasionally shout or moan escaping his lips. 

Tonight, though, he doesn’t wake himself up. Maybe it’s because he’s so emotionally drained from the last few weeks that he just doesn’t have it in him. 

As a result, at around midnight, Archie hears the screams from Fred’s bedroom, violently screaming his name. 

This time, he doesn’t even think about reaching for his headphones. Instead, he gets up, putting a safe hand on Fred’s shoulder just as he wakes up. 

Fred’s out of breath and sweating, panting like he’s just run a marathon. Archie’s names is still on his lips. 

Instead of shying away, Archie embraces his father, letting Fred curl into him. 

He listens to his father cry, about the nightmare, but also he assumes, about the last three months. 

Fred clings to Archie’s arm and Archie soothes him, arm rubbing up and down his back, until he feels Fred fall back asleep. 

He’s proud of himself, for overcoming his own fears and helping his father. But more importantly, he’s proud of his dad for taking this first step. 

He’s proud of both of them. 

He always will be.


End file.
